First Find Your Dream
by imloopy
Summary: McKay has a freaky kind of Friday, both on Atlantis and elsewhere
1. Chapter 1

**_Thursday 9th September 2004_**  
"Exploring is fun, isn't it?" Ford looked cheerfully around at the rest of the team.

Teyla smiled back at him. Sheppard nodded agreement. McKay grunted. Everyone knew he would much rather remain working in his lab, but Weir had ordered him to join the rest of the team. "You're working too hard, Rodney," had been her exact words. Sheppard cast a sideways look at his scowling teammate and suppressed a grin.

"Well, this looks more to your liking, Rodney," observed Teyla as they entered the next room along the corridor.

"Hmm, let's take a look." The scientist looked round him. "Looks like some sort of a lab. We've seen many like this. I wonder what this particular one has to offer."

He took a few steps inside, then stopped suddenly. "That's strange."

"Strange? How?" Sheppard had seen a few labs in his time, and they all looked very similar. Big, strange-looking equipment lying around, screens with Ancient writing displayed, or sitting blankly waiting to be activated.

"Oh, nothing. Just a feeling of deja vu. I guess it's just the old synapses firing prematurely again." McKay shook his head, as if to shake thoughts loose, and turned to the nearest bit of equipment. It stood about the height of a desk, and looked vaguely like a personal computer desk, with keys on the surface and a screen set into the top. He slipped off his backpack, pulled his data tablet out of it and began trying to interface the two pieces of equipment.

"Okay, team, time for lunch," Sheppard announced around half an hour later. Ford eagerly grabbed some rations out of his bag and started munching. Teyla turned from the window she had been staring out of and sat down more elegantly, searching in her bag for food. Sheppard lowered himself to the floor next to the others. Only McKay remained apart, still standing fiddling with the equipment.

"Come on, McKay," Sheppard said at last. "It's not like you to be told twice it's time to eat."

"Oh, yes yes yes, I'll be there shortly," McKay threw over his shoulder. "It just needs... - there."

He turned round in satisfaction, looked out of the window at the view of the city and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he shook his head and sat down with the others. He still made no move to get his food out though, and Sheppard was torn between curiosity to know what was bugging his friend and the feeling that he should enjoy the peace while it lasted.

In the end McKay could not keep quiet any more. "I've been here," he said suddenly.

"You can't have, Rodney," Sheppard said patiently. "We only started exploring this section this week, remember?" He grinned at Ford, who grinned back.

"No," McKay insisted. "I don't mean recently. I mean a long time ago. I remember it."

"It's possible, I suppose." Sheppard chewed thoughtfully on his food. "We've always sent teams out exploring. There's nothing on record to say we explored in this area, but…" he shrugged and took another large bite.

"No." McKay was firm. "Not recently. Not even last year. I was just a kid. I mean – I must have dreamt it, obviously… I s'pose. It's the deja vu again. It just feel so strong." He stopped talking and shrugged, appearing embarrassed.

"And you were there, and you were there…" said John teasingly, referring to the Wizard of Oz. He was shocked by McKay's expression as he started suddenly straight at him.

"Actually, now you come to mention it, I guess…" McKay's voice trailed off and he stared out of the window at the vast expanse of choppy sea and the far-off horizon. His thoughts seemed as far away, right at this minute. "I thought it was a dream. A really long, rational dream, but nothing more. I'd forgotten all about it. Except for the effect it had, of course. Without that, I wouldn't be here."

Sheppard sighed. Obviously they would get no more work done until McKay had told his story. To tell the truth, his interest had now been piqued, and he was curious to know how a dream had had such an effect.

"Go on, then," he said grudgingly. "Tell us what you dreamed about this place."

McKay thought for a moment. All the emotions of the event came rushing back, more so than the conscious memory of the event, which was fuzzy at best. "I was twelve years old," he started. He noted Ford's grin. "Yes, Lieutenant, I was twelve years old once."

He searched for the right way to explain to them what he remembered. At the time he had dismissed the memory completely, but the more he thought about it, and the more disjointed memories that came back, the more certain he became that this was no dream; that somehow, it was important. Very important.

He found himself inwardly acknowledging the strength of his emotional response to the memories. "I always wanted to be a concert pianist."

He stopped again, watching the faces of his companions. Ford looked disbelieving, Teyla looked interested but unsure. Sheppard – McKay gave up trying to decipher the expression on the Major's face. He plunged on with his story.

"I practiced the piano every day. I had lessons once a week. But on this particular day…"

"_Just give it up, Rodney. There's no point in this. You're just wasting your time and mine." Rodney looked at his teacher in shock. "You're a fine clinical pianist, Rodney, but you have no sense of the art whatsoever." His teacher looked out of the window, refusing to look directly at him. "Pack your things and go."_

_Rodney nodded, packed his things up and left. He walked slowly home, his music case swinging from his arm. His head was down, and he was thinking of nothing in particular, but he could feel the hurt mounting behind his eyes, and when he got home he headed straight for his room, slung his case violently into the far corner and threw himself on his bed, sobbing as if his heart was broken._

"…on this particular day," McKay repeated. He swallowed determinedly. "My teacher told me he felt I'd learnt as much as he could teach me, that I was not cut out to be a concert pianist. I was good, but not good enough…" He cleared his throat, gave himself time to gather his thoughts. That moment still stung bitterly, even all these years later. Even considering what it had led to.

He went on at last, "I was pretty upset. I went home and lay on my bed, thinking. I hadn't a clue what I was going to do. Music was my life until that point. I had nothing else."

"Not science?" asked Sheppard, curious in spite of himself.

"Nope. I had a particularly boring science teacher. He made the subject all but incomprehensible. Anyway, what did I want with science? I was going to be a musician." He shook off the interruption with a gesture of irritation. "Anyway, I decided later I must have dropped off to sleep, because suddenly I found myself in this huge room." He gestured around him. "This huge room, in fact. There was all this weird stuff I didn't understand, all round me. I don't remember much about what happened, it's like trying to remember a dream, and this dream happened a long time ago. But the more I think about it, the more I start to vaguely remember impressions of people I met there – there was a big, scary man with a gun who turned out more friendly than he looked, a doctor with a funny accent, a woman who was in charge of everyone, and someone I always thought of as a typical mad scientist. He had wild hair and glasses, and was always muttering under his breath in some strange language."

Sheppard's eyes widened, as he realised McKay had just given a perfect description of the rest of the team and of Dr Zelenka, who was apt to break into Czech when concentrating hard on work.

McKay met his eyes and nodded. "I really can't remember much else, except for vague impressions. But I do remember that I was fascinated by the scientist and by what he was doing, and for the first time I figured that maybe I could be interested by it. Suddenly it not only made better sense but was also important and relevant."

"So that's when you started studying science?" Ford asked.

McKay nodded. "Not straightaway," he admitted. "When I woke up I discovered I'd lost a couple of days. I mean, I just couldn't remember them, I'd done all sorts of weird things. I was sort of ill for a while, but when I did get back to school I sat in the science class and realised I understood the subject. Not only did I understand it, but I could explain it better than the teacher could. I took to reading around the subject, was given a scholarship for science and pretty soon I was doing well. The rest – as they say – is history."

The group sat silently for a while, then Sheppard jumped to his feet. "Alright children, playtime's over," he said cheerfully. "Let's check this place out, figure what it's here for."

McKay sat for a moment, thinking about what he'd just been talking about. It gave him a strange feeling, just thinking about it. He looked over at Sheppard, and saw that Sheppard felt the same way. The Major put his hand on the scientist's shoulder. "Come on, Rodney," he said cheerfully. "We've got work to do. Especially you. Glad you made the switch to science?"

McKay nodded. "Major…"

"Come on, Rodney," Sheppard interrupted him. "Let's worry about what we're doing right here and right now. The rest we can figure out later."

"I just thought it might be important…"

"Yeah, I'll bear it in mind. Give me something to think about while you're fiddling with all the machinery. Now work!"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Thursday 10th June 1982_**

The alarm went off with its usual clanging relentlessness, but to Rodney it seemed even harsher than usual. He stretched out a hand from beneath the covers, hit the button then retracted the hand again. As he stretched and yawned, the events of the day before suddenly caught up to him. The science fair. The bloody, stupid, rubbishy science fair.

He turned over in bed and did his best to fall asleep again, but now that he'd thought about it, his head was buzzing with the idea of the science fair. His teacher had been his usual annoying self the day before, and had insisted that anyone who didn't have his science fair entry ready by today would be in detention for the rest of the term. Rodney thought of the pathetic pile of papers that represented all the work for his science project, and groaned out loud. What on earth was he to do? His father would kill him if he failed this semester. And if he produced anything decent his classmates would kill him.

As for Mr Burns… Rodney rubbed his eyes with his fists, as if trying to rub out the image of his teacher, forever burned on his retinas. He didn't know which was worse, the mangled science information he came out with or the sarcasm and rudeness with which he treated his students.

He had just managed to drop off to sleep again when he was woken by banging on his door. "Come on, Rodney," his sister shouted through the door. "Mum's going to start yelling any minute."

"Go away," he retorted, pulling the covers over his head.

"Don't say I didn't warn you!" He heard her footsteps retreating down the landing and descending the stairs.

Rodney savoured the few minutes of peace he had before his mother barged in through the door. "Up," she said briskly. "You need to get ready for school right now, Rodney."

"In a minute," he groaned.

"No, now." She pulled the covers off him, and he curled up defensively.

"I'm coming," he muttered.

His mother stood and watched as he dragged himself out of bed. "I'm getting up. Now go."

"Not until I've seen you sorting your clothes out."

"Mum, I'm not a little baby!"

"Well don't act like one then." She turned and marched out of the room, leaving him to sink down on his bed and stare at his feet.

"Get dressed!" her voice drifted back from along the landing.

Half an hour later he was up, dressed, and munching on a cereal bar as he slung his bag onto his shoulder and headed out the door. Jeannie left the house at the same time. "What's the matter, little brother?" she asked, almost sounding sympathetic.

"Get lost!" he retorted.

"Come on, what is it?" she coaxed.

"What, apart from the fact you're abandoning me?"

She sighed heavily. "I'm not abandoning you, Rodney. I have to leave to go to college. But I'll still call, and come visit. I can't be here all the time."

"Why not?" He knew he was being unreasonable, but was beyond caring. Jeannie was the only ally he had, and he couldn't help seeing her planned departure as a personal affront. Life was unpleasant enough at home. How did she expect to manage when she was no longer there to protect him?

"Anyway, I don't care," he added, and turned into the school gates. He could see the Gang standing waiting for him, but for once was too mad to even care. He headed straight past them, hiding in a crowd of others, and made his way to the locker.

He managed to stay out of their way until nearly lunchtime, when they had maths together. The teacher was trying to introduce simultaneous equations, and the rest of the class seemed to be finding heavy going, but for Rodney it was child's play, and he completed the page of exercises easily, then sat staring out of the window.

"Rodney!"

He jumped, and turned to stare at the teacher. "What?"

"Rodney, get on with your work, please."

"I've done it."

Lucas, who sat behind him in class, sniggered out loud. The teacher ignored him and walked over to Rodney's desk, peering upside down at the paper resting on it.

"You can't possibly have done it all, Rodney, you…" Her voice trailed off as she realised that he had, indeed completed all the exercise.

Rodney felt his face go red as he realised his mistake. How could you let your guard down this late in the school year? he berated himself silently. He could feel the animosity flowing from the seat behind him and from a couple of other places in the room.

"Well, I've heard rumours you're a genius, Rodney, but I never believed them," his teacher said, and Rodney winced at the sarcasm in her voice. Boy was he going to pay for this!

"Come to the front of the class, and you can explain number 5 to everyone," the teacher invited him. Rodney shook his head. "Now, Rodney," she ordered, her voice firm and demanding.

Rodney stood up, slowly walked to the front of the room, picked up the piece of chalk and stood facing the board. He looked down at his feet, then back up at the board.

"Can't you remember?" his teacher asked.

He turned and looked at her, then at the grinning face of Lucas. There was no way to come out of this without some sort of trouble. He put the piece of chalk back down on the desk and shook his head. "I can't do it," he said sullenly.

"What do you mean, you can't do it?" his teacher's voice rose sharply. "So how did you complete the exercise?"

"I mean I can't do this," Rodney answered. "I can't go on like this. I've had enough."

Before she realised his intentions, he slipped past her and out of the classroom door. As he opened it and ran out, he heard a whoop of delight rise from his fellow students, with Lucas's voice the loudest of all.

Rodney managed to hide from them until nearly the end of lunch. It meant no chance to eat, but he'd learnt to live with that. Besides, no-one checked up on what he ate at home, so what did it matter? The important thing was staying well out of their way. In his heart he knew he was only delaying the inevitable, but he always tried to convince himself that if he stayed out of the way for long enough they would forget about him. He tried that with his parents, too, but again it never worked for long. Sooner or later his father would explode over something he had or hadn't done, and his mother would lay into his father, and the whole routine would start over again.

He was startled when the classroom door opened.

"So this is where you're hiding, is it McKay?" sneered Lucas as he entered the room. Rodney looked at Lucas, at the two bodyguards behind him, and swallowed hard.

"I was just trying to…" he could get no further; the words stuck in his throat.

"Just trying to show the rest of us up?" demanded Ralph. He always struggled at Maths and hated those who found the subject easy.

"No, no, no," Rodney denied vehemently. "I was just joking, you know? Just making up answers to get out of the work! I don't like it either!"

Ralph hesitated, but Lucas urged him on. "He's just a swot, a nerd. Let's get him!"

Rodney had science in the afternoon, but he really wasn't in the mood to head into more trouble. Instead he picked up his scattered belongings, sneaked out of the classroom before anyone else found him there, and hid in the cloakrooms until the rest of the school had disappeared to lessons. Then he sneaked out and limped down the corridor to the main door.

"Rodney? Where are you going?" He turned to see Mrs Adams, his favourite teacher – hell, the only one who seemed to have any time for him – standing in her office doorway.

"Uh, I was just –" Rodney indicated the school entrance with one hand, holding his ripped shirt closed with the other.

"Is something wrong?" Mrs Adams put her head on one side, looking at him quizzically.

"Uh, no, I'm fine," Rodney assured her, wondering as he did so why it was that grownups seemed to fall for that one every time.

Mrs Adams nodded, as if satisfied. "I could do with a hand, Rodney, could you spare me a few minutes?"

Rodney looked longingly at the entrance, then at the door of the office. "I suppose so," he said grudgingly. He often helped Mrs Adams with various tasks, usually when he was trying to seek a safe haven from Lucas and his cronies, but this time he was really not in the mood.

But a few minutes later, as he pored over the sheets of class notes and timetables with Mrs Adams, he had to admit he was almost enjoying himself. Every year Mrs Adams had the task of putting together the timetable for the whole school, and every year she managed to get into a tangle with at least three students who didn't fit into any possible combination of classes. The last couple of years, she had discovered that Rodney had a gift for the logical thinking necessary to plan out a feasible timetable, and had made the most of his help on the task.

By the time they had worked out the timetable it was nearly the end of the school day, and Mrs Adams gave him permission to leave a couple of minutes early. As she said goodbye he noticed a strange look in her eyes, and wondered for a brief moment if she'd noticed the ripped buttons on his shirt, or the awkward way he held his arm tight against his chest. But he dismissed the thought. Uncomfortable as it was to live his life as it was, the thought that adults knew how he was treated by the other kids and were just turning a blind eye was worse still.

He had a piano lesson tonight. He felt his footsteps quicken as he neared his piano teacher's house. This was the one time of the week when he really felt at home. Here he could drift into the world of music without danger of being interrupted by his parents shouting or making demands of him he was unable to fulfil.

A few hours later Rodney was lying on his bed, his eyes hot and swollen from crying. How could he! His teacher's words rang in his ears. "No sense of the art. No sense of the art. Pack your things. Pack your things."

Music was all he had. Had been all he had. But now it looked as though he never really had even that. What was he to do now? His father kept pressuring him to head towards being a doctor. He'd resisted the pressure with his music, but now that had gone. What could he do now? Sure, he was capable of studying hard, of becoming a doctor like his father, but what life was that? Medicine bored him stupid, he couldn't bear to hear his father sitting at the table listing medical symptoms and diagnoses. It all seemed so vague and undefinable anyway. Give him a good clear mathematical equation anyday, at least he could rely on the results. Although there was always Lucas and company to add to the equation. He didn't like the result that made!

He was due to change schools in a couple of months, but Lucas and his gang were heading to the same high school. So there was no escape there. Maybe in the bigger school he'd get more chance to get lost in the crowd. But he wasn't going to hold his breath in excitement. No, his choice was between continuing to fail at school and incurring his parents' wrath, and working hard at school and getting regularly beaten up and taunted by his fellow students. He'd been trying so hard to walk the middle path, but he was tired of having to consider every word he said, everything he wrote.

As his head buzzed with these thoughts the sight of his science project drifted into the corner of his eye, and he groaned out loud. Of course, all this worrying was assuming he managed somehow to survive the science project. He rolled over on the bed and buried his face in the covers. Maybe he could suffocate himself and escape that way. Or maybe he should just run away from home. Not that they'd notice. He wondered idly just how long it would take between him leaving home and them missing him. Eventually his eyes drifted closed and his breathing steadied, and he fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

McKay pressed a few buttons on his data tablet, drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk for a few minutes, stared at the equipment in front of him then tried a few more taps on the screen. He scowled, looked around him for inspiration, then sighed in disgust.

"Problems?" Sheppard looked across in amusement.

"Ah – not really. It's just…" McKay's voice trailed off as his attention wandered. "…There." He pressed the screen a couple more times then grinned in satisfaction as the displays on the tablet and on the equipment screen in front of him glowed with colour and flashing displays of symbols and numbers.

"Very pretty," Sheppard observed. "But what does it actually _do_?"

"Ah, good question. I haven't quite worked that out yet," McKay admitted. He held out his hand to forestall his colleague's comments. "But I will, don't worry."

"I wasn't worried," Sheppard replied, going back to wandering around the room. He paused every so often to look at something that caught his attention.

"Ah – Major, don't touch anything, will you?" The request – order – was thrown back over his shoulder as McKay leant forward to examine more closely a part of the display that had caught his attention.

McKay was worried. Not that he'd ever admit that to anyone, least of all Sheppard; he liked them to believe that they could always rely on him to have the solution. Not that they believed that really, at least they said they didn't, but deep down inside McKay reckoned they were coming to rely on him and trust him. This was something new to him, and he was still only just coming to terms with it. It was flattering, yes, but it was also rather intimidating. So many times they had turned to him to pull a solution out of a hat and save their asses, and so far he'd always come through. But he wasn't superhuman – God knows, he was only too aware of that fact – and one day he was going to fail. Knowing him and the stuff he was working on, he had a nasty suspicion that he would fail spectacularly, and he just hoped with all his being that these people – his friends – would not get hurt in the process.

Which brought him back to his present dilemma.

He stared gloomily at the machine in front of him. It looked almost like a desktop computer, with a set of controls built into the desk area and a display screen above it. He was fairly confident by now that this was the machine. In fact, he even felt a vague glimmer of recognition as he looked at the controls. It was a strange feeling – remembering a dream, and yet becoming more and more convinced each passing minute that it had been more than a dream. He'd felt himself grow hot and embarrassed during the conversation with the others, when he had told them about the dream he'd had as a child, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that it had been important to tell them.

Did he dare turn the machine on? He had absolutely no idea what would happen to him from the moment he operated it. He just knew what had already happened. What had to have happened, in order for him to be here in the first place.

"It's the grandfather paradox," he said under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Sheppard took a step towards him.

"No, stay back, Major," retorted McKay sharply. "I've absolutely no idea what will happen here. I only know it's got to happen because it did happen, and if it didn't happen I wouldn't be here, and now I wouldn't miss being here for all the world, and God knows what would happen to you all if I weren't here, so I've got to go. I just hope I get back…" and with that he twisted a control on the desk unit of the equipment in front of him.

"McKay?" What the hell are you talking about?" Sheppard frowned, trying to make sense of the excited scientist. "Where are you going, what happened, what…" his voice trailed off as he darted forward in a vain attempt to catch McKay before he hit his head on the desk on his way to the ground.

"McKay? McKay!" Sheppard laid his friend gently on the ground, then felt for a pulse with one hand while simultaneously tapping his earpiece with the other. "Medical team to north pier section five. We have a man down."


	4. Chapter 4

Rodney had a headache. He felt sick. He wasn't sure where he was or what had happened to him, but those two facts he was painfully aware of.

He could hear beeping. He could hear voices murmuring. The occasional metallic clatter and the slight smell of antiseptic made him think of the hospital he'd visited when he'd broken his wrist a year ago.

What had happened? The last thing he remembered was lying on his bed after the music lesson – he pushed that painful memory away with a determined shove, and allowed himself to drift away from it back into sleep.

Next time he awoke, his headache had eased somewhat and he struggled to open his eyes. He saw a strange man looking down at him, frowning. "Rodney? Come on, it's time you woke up."

'That's nicer than Mum or Dad shouting at me to get up,' he thought idly. But who was this man? He seemed to know who Rodney was, but Rodney was sure he'd never seen him before. He spoke with a funny accent, too. British? Scottish? That was it, Scottish. Rodney opened his mouth to speak, but found it almost impossible to force any sound out.

"Where –" he began, then stopped. His voice sounded strange. He felt strange. He tried to raise a hand to his face, but found his arm felt too weak to respond properly.

"It's all right, Rodney," the strange man said reassuringly. "You just blacked out for a minute and banged your head. We brought you to the infirmary about an hour ago. You've been unconscious the whole time."

Rodney tried to lift his head off the pillow to look around him.

"Hi." Another face came into view. This time, the accent was American, and belonged to a man with a shock of dark hair standing on end. "You gave us quite a scare."

Rodney stared at him. He didn't recognise this face or voice either. Curious. But he felt unable to summon up much energy to investigate further. He laid back again and closed his eyes.

"His blood pressure is more stable now, but his pulse is still a little weak," he heard the Scottish voice say. "I think he'll be fine after a little more rest."

"I sure hope so," the American answered. Rodney had a vague feeling there was more to the conversation, but he wasn't sure what. He relaxed back into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

"Rodney, come on, wake up."

McKay groaned and pushed at whatever was shaking him, trying to wake him up.

"Come on, you have to wake up. I need to talk to you."

McKay froze. He knew that voice. Didn't he? But what the hell was it doing here? Or… He carefully opened one eye and looked out from under the arms he'd thrown up over his face. Not liking what he saw, he hurriedly closed it again.

"Come on, Rodney, quit messing around, I really need to talk to you," the voice insisted.

McKay shook his head. He really didn't want to know what was going on. Besides, he already knew, didn't he? Had known almost from the first moment he set foot into that particular lab and his "dream" had come back to haunt him.

Reluctantly he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "Hi, Jeannie," he said weakly.

* * *

"Quite frankly, I'm starting to get concerned." It was the Scottish voice again, cutting through his drifting thoughts.

"Rodney?" It was a female voice this time, and his eyes flew wide open in shock. Looking down at him was a beautiful woman, about the same age as Mrs Adams, with a very concerned look on her face, which eased as she saw he was awake, then seemed to deepen again at his expression.

"Rodney, how are you feeling?" she asked. "You've got us all worried about you." Her voice sounded soft and kind.

Rodney looked from her face to that of the Scottish doctor. They did both look rather worried, which made a pleasant change, Rodney thought wryly. Nobody ever looked worried about him usually. Angry with him, maybe. The only person he could ever remember actually showing any concern to him was… "Jeannie?"

"Huh? Rodney, it's me, Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth." Rodney thought about that for a moment. No, he couldn't remember anyone called Elizabeth, apart from the girl with the braid who sat next to him in Art. And this certainly wasn't the same Elizabeth.

He struggled to sit up more and the doctor helped him, adjusting something at the back of the bed.

"How are you feeling now, Rodney?" he asked in more cheerful tones than those Rodney had heard him using just a few minutes earlier.

Rodney tried to speak, cleared his throat.

"My head hurts."

"We can soon fix that," the doctor nodded. "Anything else?"

"Where am I?"

"You're in the infirmary. I thought you would recognise it, you are somewhat of a regular visitor." Rodney saw the two strangers exchange smiling glances.

"I don't understand. What infirmary? Where? Is it St George's Hospital?"

The faces took on very serious looks. "Rodney?" said the woman. "We're on Atlantis, remember?"

Rodney supposed that at some deep level her words must make some sense to someone. "Greek myths? Sunken city?" he ventured.

"Rodney." The doctor leaned in more closely. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Rodney struggled through his memories. He remembered the maths class, the beating, the piano lesson – oh God, the piano lesson. He wished he'd been able to forget about that, or that it was all a horrible dream. "A dream," he said.

"What's that?" it was the doctor's turn to look confused.

"I had laid down on my bed. It's all a dream." Rodney settled back into his pillows, a faint smile on his face. "That's it, it's all just a dream. I'll wake up soon and I'll be at home in my bedroom and…" He stopped, wondering just how far back the dream went. The memory of that horrible piano lesson seemed so real – but then so did this part of it.

"Amnesia," the Scottish voice said. Then the American voice Rodney remembered from earlier spoke up again from behind the others.

"Actually, I think it may be a whole lot more complicated than that."

"Eh?" The doctor looked behind him.

"What do you mean, John?" asked the woman – Elizabeth, Rodney remembered.

The American – John – stepped forward into Rodney's view. "Hi, Rodney," he said cheerfully. "Do you know who I am?"

Rodney shook his head.

"My name's John Sheppard. What's yours?"

'Stupid question,' thought Rodney. "Rodney McKay."

"How old are you, Rodney?"

Rodney frowned. What game was he playing? "I'm twelve," he answered in irritated tones.

"What's the date today?" was the next question.

"June 9th 1982." Rodney was starting to get seriously annoyed at this line of questioning – until he noticed the reaction of the other two. Then he just felt very scared.

"John?" said Elizabeth. "Would you mind explaining what's going on?"

John looked down at Rodney, winked, then looked unsure of himself. "We won't be long," he promised. "I just need to talk to these good people for a while, then we'll be right back."


	6. Chapter 6

Left by himself, Rodney looked around him properly for the first time. The medical equipment around him looked standard as far as his limited medical knowledge could tell, but the walls looked strange. He couldn't describe it, but somehow they did not look how he would have expected hospital walls to look like. He was in one bed in a row of beds, all made up with lime-green sheets and blankets, but the others were all empty and the one nurse bustling around did not appear very busy. This was very different to the hospital Rodney had been in, which had been crowded and noisy with people constantly moving round him and talking and wheeling heavy equipment around.

The three people came back and Rodney watched their approach with interest. They did not seem to know how to treat him or what to say to him. The doctor checked the equipment monitoring him. "Well, I think you'll be fine," he declared.

Elizabeth looked closely at Rodney. "You're really twelve years old?" she asked.

Rodney nodded, suddenly feeling very uncertain. He put his hand up to his head, to feel where it hurt, then stopped and stared at his hand instead. It looked different. It looked – like an adult's hand, not like a child's hand at all.

John sat down by his bed. "Rodney." He sounded very serious. "Something's happened to you. There's been a bit of a mix-up. You're going to find this very hard to believe, but someone – I can't explain who right now – managed to pull your consciousness here into another body."

"Oh, good story." Rodney laughed, then stopped and stared in disbelief. "You're not joking about this, are you?"

"No, I'm not. Carson, have you got a mirror?" John turned to the doctor, who nodded and went away. He returned a moment later with a small hand mirror. John held the mirror out to Rodney, who took it gingerly and held it so he could see himself. He recoiled, letting the mirror drop onto the bed, then picked it up and stared into it again.

"How?" he whispered.

"It's a long story." John looked at Elizabeth, who took over.

"Don't worry, Rodney. We'll be putting our best scientists to work. They'll figure out how it happened and how to fix it."

"But who did this?" Rodney demanded, finding his voice.

The adults looked at each other. Eventually John spoke. "The person whose body you're in right now. Our chief scientist. Dr Rodney McKay. And we're not sure where he's gone, but we think he might be in your body right now. It's the only explanation we can think of."

Rodney stared, wide-eyed, then stared into the mirror again. It was weird. He thought of photos he'd seen of himself as a baby, how he could always recognise himself at any age. This was the same, but in reverse. This was knowing how he looked when young, but seeing a photo of himself as grown up, as old. He shook his head in disbelief. "This isn't possible," he said at last. "Now I know I'm dreaming."

The adults seemed to look a little relieved, if anything. "Aye, that's right, Rodney," said the doctor – Carson, Rodney remembered – "It's all a big dream and we're figments of your imagination."

"Some imagination," Rodney murmured, closing his eyes.

McKay stared up at his sister. It was difficult to comprehend, that this was his big sister, staring down at him. "I bet you're surprised to see me," he said.

"What?" Jeannie stood back from the bed and glared at him, frowning. "What are you talking about, Rodney? Listen, Dad will be back from work soon. He'll kill you if he finds you lying on the bed sleeping instead of doing your science project."

McKay frowned. Something was definitely wrong here. Could she not see the difference? A sudden thought struck him. He swung his legs off the bed and sat up. He could see his familiar childhood bedroom. He stood up and walked across to the mirror that hung over the chest of drawers on the back wall. He hardly dared look into it. Finally he raised his eyes to meet those of his reflection. Wide-eyed, he put his hands up to his face, feeling his smooth babysoft cheeks. A mop of unruly hair stood up from his head, tousled from his sleep, while his eyes looked swollen and red from crying. He shook his head in disbelief, then turned to face his sister.

"Jeannie, I need to tell you something," he said, but she interrupted before he could say more.

"I got a place, Rodney! I got a place! I'm going to college next semester. I'll be in the student block to start with, but I'll have to find my own place. Maybe I'll find some friends to share with. Oh, it's going to be so much fun!"

She stopped, seeing the expression on his face. "It won't be that bad, Rodney," she reassured him. "I won't be that far away, and I'll call regularly, and if I get a place of my own perhaps you can come to stay. If you learn to do what Dad tells you, you'll get along fine."

"No, you don't understand," said McKay desperately. "I'm not who you think I am, I –" His words were interrupted by the slamming of a door downstairs. "He's back."

He stared at Jeannie, wondering desperately what to do. He had been surprised at the reaction he'd felt in his body when he heard that door slam, that unconscious tensing of the muscles, the instinctive reaction he felt as his heart rate increased.

"You'd better look busy," warned Jeannie. But before McKay could do anything the door to his bedroom opened.

"Rodney?" His father stood framed in the doorway.

"Yes, sir?" McKay swallowed hard. He did not need to be afraid of this man. Not any more! But he could not fight the instinct to submit, to feel fear and withdraw from battle.

"Is your project finished?"

"I…" McKay was unsure how to answer. His father looked on the desk that was strewn with papers, and obviously saw his own answer there.

"There'll be no dinner for you tonight until that bloody project is finished. I've had enough of this, Rodney. You will knuckle down and get your school work done or I will make your life a misery."

"You already did that," McKay found himself muttering.

His father stared at him, shocked. "What did you say?" he demanded.

"Uh, nothing, sir, sorry. I'll get on with it now." McKay desperately fought for thinking time. Science project. What did he remember about a science project? He suddenly realised what was meant. "Oh, yes, science project. Yes, no problem." He found himself babbling and fought for control. He would not disintegrate before this man!

His father nodded curtly and turned away, before turning back to add, "and Jeannie, I'm sure you have work you're meant to be doing too."

"Yes, Dad," she answered demurely. "I'm just about to get on to it. My teacher liked that last essay I submitted. Did I tell you I got an A?"

Her father just grunted and left the room, leaving McKay feeling weak at the knees and Jeannie grinning at him. "Why don't you just do as you're told?" she asked him. "Your life would be a lot easier."

"I know," McKay answered soberly. "I don't know why I wouldn't do it, except that it always felt like giving in. The more he pushed, the less I wanted to do it. And as long as I was running away from medicine instead of towards science…" he stopped as he saw the blank look on his sister's face. "I don't know," he said again.


	7. Chapter 7

"So, Rodney, are you ready to get up?"

Rodney reluctantly opened his eyes again. He stared up at Carson. "Do I have to?" he asked plaintively. "My head still hurts, and I think I might do serious damage if I get up and run around now."

Carson smiled. "It's all right, Rodney," he reassured him. "We'll look after you, make sure you're okay."

"Oh." Rodney sat up. "You promise?"

"Aye. Now, can you get dressed by yourself?"

"Of course I can! I'm not a baby!" Rodney threw back the covers and swung his legs over the end of the bed. He stood up, then hurriedly sat back down again. "Oh, this feels weird."

"Easy now," Carson warned him, helping him back to his feet. "Perhaps I'd better stick around and make sure you're okay."

A few moments later Rodney was dressed in unfamiliar clothes and marvelling at how odd it felt to be the same size as the adults around him. He looked at John, who smiled back at him. "Okay, Rodney?" the man asked cheerfully.

Rodney nodded. "I think so," he said. "Where are we going?"

"I thought I'd take you back to the lab, the one we were in when – when whatever happened did happen. Zelenka's there already, seeing if he can figure out anything."

"Zal – what?" Rodney asked, confused.

"Dr Zelenka. He's Czechoslovakian. He's a scientist. He works with you quite often – with our Dr McKay, that is. The grown-up you."

"Oh." Rodney thought it best not to enquire any further. He walked to the door with John, but hesitated. "Are you sure this is okay?"

"It's okay, Rodney, I'll take care of you," John assured him. "By the way, I never introduced myself. I'm Colonel John Sheppard."

"Colonel?" Rodney's eyes widened as he reassessed the man in front of him. Military? Yes, he could see it. He glanced down and saw the gun in the holster strapped to John's leg. John saw his glance and grinned.

"I wouldn't worry, Rodney," he said cheerfully. "I doubt we'll need that where we're going, but I always carry it just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Oh – just in case we need it," John evaded the question. "Let's go."

He indicated the way out of the infirmary. Rodney looked at Carson, who nodded. "Ye'll be fine with Colonel Sheppard," he reassured him.

Rodney nodded back a little uncertainly, then led the way into the corridor.

John walked beside him, indicating which turns to take. Rodney stared about him as he walked, fascinated by the strange sights he saw. The place appeared to be in a high tower, with windows looking out at other parts of the city from a great height. People bustled in and out of the rooms they passed. One or two raised a hand in greeting as they passed, and a couple tried to greet him as "Dr McKay," but John hurried him past, saying, "Sorry, Rodney's a little busy at the moment."

They went into a little cupboard that John assured him was a transport chamber, then came out of a similar cupboard which was apparently different from the first one. After a little more walking, Rodney realised he hadn't seen anyone else for a few minutes. Then John took him into a large room, and he saw a man wearing glasses bending down over a table that had some sort of controls set into it. There was another man there, wearing a gun in a holster, and a woman. Both looked rather scary, and Rodney decided to stay well away from them. He moved closer to John, and the latter turned and smiled at him, looking rather amused.

He introduced Rodney to the new people, who turned out to be Lieutenant Ford, Teyla and Dr Zelenka. "And this," said John, putting his hand on the table in front of Dr Zelenka, "is the machine that's caused all these problems."

Rodney stared at it in surprise. It looked ordinary. It looked like a cross between a very fancy computer terminal and an electric piano. He moved closer to it. "May I touch it?" he asked.

"I would not touch any of the controls," warned Zelenka. "We do not yet know what it does."

McKay looked at his desk. Spread out across its surface were papers pertaining to both his science projects. There was the one he had wanted to do, had done most of his work on, and there was the one his father had instructed him to do.

He thought back to the humiliating scene that had taken place all those years ago – or in fact just a few days ago. His father and his science teacher, united in their vocal claims that he was not to submit the project he had planned to submit, that it was totally unsuitable, and that his father would be delighted to work with him to produce a project they considered eminently better for him, and that would help him in his quest to become a medical doctor.

"But I don't want to be a medical doctor," he had cried desperately. His protests had been ignored, however, and he had been told in no uncertain terms that failure to submit the project as agreed between his teacher and his father would lead to him failing the course. And that could cause problems for any hope of a scientific career. He had returned to the course of insisting he wanted to make a career out of music, and his father had refused to speak to him for two days, before once again making it abundantly clear to him that he was to submit the project as agreed or he would be grounded for life and his music lessons cancelled.

"Well, I needn't have worried too much about that!" McKay muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Jeannie asked.

"What? Oh, nothing, don't worry about it," McKay answered. He continued staring down at the papers. Of course, he had to do as he was told. Not submitting would cause so many problems. On the other hand, he had submitted his own project, hadn't he? And things had gone better than he could have hoped for.

He remembered that strange feeling, when he had been unable to remember actually submitting the project or even completing it, and realised what he had to do. He sat down at the desk and began to write.


	8. Chapter 8

Rodney watched in fascination as Dr Zelenka worked. He had connected two pieces of equipment together and was alternately peering into one screen, pressing a few buttons and then peering into another screen.

"What's that?" Rodney asked, indicating the smaller of the two machines.

"It's a laptop," Zelenka answered in a thick accent. Seeing Rodney's puzzled face, he continued, "A laptop computer? We use them for a lot of our work."

Rodney's face brightened. "Ah, I've got a computer. Mine's an Apple II, with Visicalc. It's really useful."

Zelenka smiled. "I think you'll find computers have changed a lot since the Apple II," he commented dryly.

"Show me," Rodney demanded.

Zelenka looked up at John, who nodded. "Won't do any harm," he said.

So Zelenka spent half an hour showing Rodney how the laptop worked; how to run up the various programs, how the operating system worked and how the software they used to interface with the Atlantean systems ran. Rodney was absolutely fascinated. He could have spent the rest of his life working on this stuff! But eventually he was forced to give in and allow Zelenka to get back to his work. He looked up at John instead. "Is this really my future?" he demanded.

John nodded. "It would appear so," he agreed.

Rodney thought for a second, then a broad grin spread across his face. "Now that I could live with," he declared.

He wandered over to the big window that dominated one wall of the lab. He stared out at the rest of the city. "Where are we, exactly?"

"Uh – we're on a city in the middle of the ocean."

He turned to stare at John. "What ocean?"

"Now, that would be telling." John looked uneasy. "Look, Rodney, I really don't know how much of this you should know. We don't want to change the past, we just want events to play out as they must. If we tell you too much it might change what you do."

Rodney looked as if he was about to argue, but then swallowed hard and stared out of the window again. "It's never gonna happen."

"What?"

"Me, being here. My Dad will never let me."

"With all due respect, I do not believe your father has that much influence on your future," interjected Zelenka.

"Are you kidding?" Rodney turned on him furiously. "He says I've got to be a medical doctor, and he'll do anything to make that happen. Whatever I do, he twists it to that goal. If I do anything against him he makes my life a misery!"

"And you let him?" asked John quietly.

Rodney stared down at his feet for a moment. "I don't have a choice." His voice was more sullen than the others had ever heard. "What do you expect me to do? I'm twelve years old. I can't put myself through college, and I'm not even going to get there unless I'm studying medicine. If I do badly at school my father yells at me, and if I do well at school the other kids beat me up."

"Rodney, come with me," said Teyla, who had been following the conversation with interest.

"Wait a minute, where are you taking him?" asked John in alarm.

Teyla had Rodney by the arm and was leading him towards the door. "I think it is about time Rodney had some lessons in self-defence," she said over her shoulder as they went out.


	9. Chapter 9

McKay sat down at his computer desk. He had been so proud of this computer, he remembered. In a time where computers were virtually unheard of outside a business environment, he had managed to beg and cajole his father into buying him an Apple II. It had cost him a promise to work hard towards becoming a medical doctor, but he had decided he could deal with that later, and in the meantime it had enabled him to work on his own science experiments, teaching himself out of books and using the computer to do the heavy math involved. Of course his tablet back on Atlantis had over 20,000 times the memory and 3000 times the processing speed in a far smaller package than the Apple II, but he vaguely remembered how to use Visicalc, and if he could figure out alien technology he wasn't going to admit defeat on a 1970s spreadsheet program.

A few minutes later he was deeply absorbed in his work. He was pleasantly surprised to realise that his project as he had left it all those years ago was very nearly complete. He just needed to double check the research, but he could see at a glance that the twelve year old kid who put this together had real potential as a scientist. "In fact, he's a genius," he murmured to himself complacently. He was so deeply engrossed in reading through his old notes that he hardly registered when Jeannie went away, and only noticed the phone ringing as he stood up to cross the room for a reference book.

He was well aware of what was going on around him a few minutes later, when his mother burst into the room, the draft caused by the violent opening of the door sending his papers flying.

He jumped up to grab the sheet that was just drifting dangerously close to the window, then turned to his mother. "Yes, what is it?" he snapped brusquely, then remembered where – and who – he was. "I mean…" his voice trailed away as he stared at his mother.

It had been many years since he had seen her. He had deliberately avoided returning home once he had reached college and could finally consider himself independent. Before then, visits home had been sparse to say the least. Not that either of his parents had ever commented on it or seemed to notice, let alone care.

Now his mother stood before him, looking older than he had expected. He had always thought of her as young and beautiful, but she just looked tired and angry. "Did you talk to Mrs Adams today?" she demanded.

"What? No, I…"

"She's just been on the phone to me. She says she's concerned that you're unhappy at school and that you're being bullied."

Now McKay remembered Mrs Adams. Kind, but ineffectual as a teacher. She tried to win the children's loyalty through friendship, instead of discipline, and the children tended to take advantage of her.

"Oh, that Mrs Adams," he said. He'd never realised she had ever noticed his problems at school.

"Don't play games with me. Is it true?"

"Well, yes, it is," admitted McKay, taken aback.

"How dare you talk to her?" his mother cried. "For a smart kid, you can be pretty damn stupid at times! If your father finds out that not only have you not been standing up for yourself but you've been running to a teacher for help, we'll never hear the last of it."

She ran out of steam and stared down at his desk instead. "What's all that?"

"My science project."

"Oh, you're finally doing something you've been told for once. Good for you."

Rodney winced at the sarcasm in her voice. "What time's dinner?"

"Dinner? When your father wants it," she answered sharply. "Please don't cause a row tonight, Rodney, you know it gives me a headache."

"Yes Mom, I mean no Mom," McKay answered dutifully. He well remembered the scenes between himself and his father over the meal tables. It seemed he could never do anything right as far as his father was concerned.

He picked up a piece of paper from the desk, studied it for a moment, then picked up a pencil and began scribbling furiously on it, becoming absorbed again in his work. A few moments later he'd forgotten his mother had even entered the room to talk to him.

When McKay next looked up from his papers it was dark outside. He realised how hungry he was and stood up to stretch, then headed downstairs in search of food.

He found the dining room empty, although the smell of a meal still lingered. Sniffing the air, he made a guess at his favourite meal, lasagne. He wandered into the kitchen in search of leftovers.

"There's none left, it's all gone," said his mother curtly when she found him in there a few minutes later.

"And you didn't call me?"

"You've been told over and over again that if you don't come first time you're called you go hungry."

McKay just stood looking at her for a moment, then grabbed a slice of bread from the cupboard and stuffed it into his mouth before heading upstairs again. He had to get the project finished tonight. His stomach would have to wait for a change. Besides, it felt rather sore. Investigations revealed purple bruising. He thought hard, and remembered Lucas and the beating. "You'd better stay out of my way, you little punk," he thought to himself.

As he went along the landing he looked into Jeannie's room. "Why didn't you get me for dinner?" he demanded of her.

"Oh, come on, Rodney, I did try, but you were even deeper into your work than usual. And Dad said I wasn't to call you, anyway. But here, I managed to save you some." She produced a small plate of cold lasagne and a fork from behind her bed.

"Thanks," said McKay, eating it hungrily. "I've got a lot of work to do still, and this will help keep me going."

"What are you working on that's so exciting?" Jeannie asked curiously.

"My science project. It's what's going to get me out of here."

"Oh come off it, Rodney, stop making the grand plans."

"No, I mean it. I'm going to win the science project, they're going to see how good I am at physics and I'm going to get a scholarship. I'll live at school and never come back here again. I'm going away, just like you." McKay realised he was babbling, but couldn't stop himself. His brain was buzzing with memories from the past, calculations from the project and the excitement of what he was going to achieve for his younger self.

Jeannie just shook her head. "Don't get too excited until it actually happens," she warned.

McKay ignored her and headed back to his room. Just another couple of hours and he'd be done.

When John and Lieutenant Ford joined him and Teyla in the commissary, Rodney was buzzing with excitement. "Teyla's a really good teacher. I'm so going to whup Lucas's ass when I next see him!" he declared.

Teyla smiled. "You'll do fine, Rodney," she promised him.

"Now then," John sat down beside him. "I've found somewhere for you to sleep, it's just down the corridor from my room and it's not far from the infirmary where we were earlier."

Teyla looked up. "He's not sleeping in his own room?" he asked.

Ford answered her. "With all the stuff he has on the wall? We thought it was best that young Rodney here doesn't get too precise a picture of his future."

"Oh, of course." Teyla nodded.

Rodney waved his fork in the air. "Hey, it's a dream, remember? Dreams never get too specific. But hey, it's cool that I get to learn self-defence in my dreams. I just hope I remember it when I wake up," he added, staring down at the lasagne in front of him before shrugging and spearing a large mouthful.


	10. Chapter 10

McKay woke with a jump. What the hell was that? He listened.

"Rodney!"

Oh hell. That was his father, on the warpath again. McKay stared over at his finished project on the desk. It crossed his mind for a moment to wonder just what would happen if this didn't work, if he didn't fix it for young Rodney to win the science fair and get the scholarship. But before he could follow the thought through and consider the consequences his bedroom door flew open and his father was towering over him waving a piece of paper and an envelope.

"What's the meaning of this?"

McKay tried to sit up, but his father was so close he barely had room.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he declared. "Why don't you enlighten me?" Then he caught sight of the letter heading.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" his father roared. He pulled the covers off McKay and grabbed him by the arm, almost dragging him out of bed and onto his feet.

McKay pulled himself out of his father's grip and stood upright. "How dare you manhandle me like that?" he shouted back. "All the years I've put up with your bullying! You think you're so smart, but you're not smarter than me, you were never smarter than me, it just took me a long time to realise that!"

"What?" cried his father. McKay closed his mouth determinedly. This was really not a good idea. But his father took a step backwards, and McKay realised that at the age of twelve he was beginning to grow taller, was only a few inches smaller than the man who in his memories had always seemed so tall and menacing. He looked more closely at him and noticed the puffy jawline, the frownlines and the tension in his father's shoulders. 'Why did I never see this before?' he thought to himself, but he knew even as he thought it that it was because he'd always been too wrapped up in his own misery to see what was before his eyes.

His father showed him the paper. It was from the music teacher. "It says he's cancelling your lessons, effective immediately."

McKay nodded.

"Good, perhaps now that stupid piano nonsense is at an end you will concentrate on your studies," growled his father.

McKay shook his head. "I'm never going to be a medical doctor," he explained patiently. I'm going to be an astrophysicist."

"A what?" his father snorted. "You'll never be an astrophysicist. You can't even do simple math."

McKay refused to answer, and stood his ground until his father retreated from the room. Then he sat down on the bed, his legs trembling suddenly. He realised that that was the only time he had ever stood up to his father.

When Rodney first awoke he couldn't think where he was. He lay quietly in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening. He could hear the sound of people somewhere in the distance, but mostly what he could hear was the sound of the ocean. Eventually he remembered where he was and jumped out of bed, taking a blanket with him as he walked to the big window. He looked out, trying to work out what was real and what wasn't. He was dreaming, of course; so how come in his dream he'd been to sleep and dreamt?

He was startled by a knock on the door. "Come in," he said.

John stuck his head round the door. "Are you ready for breakfast?" he asked cheerfully.

"Just let me get dressed," Rodney answered, staring around the room again.

McKay carefully packed everything he needed into a box and carried it downstairs. His mother was waiting for him. "What did you have to go and upset your father for?" she demanded as soon as she saw him. "Now he's in a bad mood, and I need to ask him for something. You really are too much, Rodney!" She took herself off in a huff.

"Where are you going, squirt?" asked Jeannie, coming out of the dining room.

McKay smiled. He still felt a certain fondness for his big sister. Granted, she had always stood back and watched the battles he had with his parents, but at least she was usually around to pick up the pieces afterwards.

"I'm going to win that science fair," he answered her confidently, and went out carrying his box.

Rodney enjoyed his breakfast with the others, but was relieved when they said it was time to head back to the lab. The commissary was filling up as they finished their meal, and many people looked over at him as if they knew him and wanted to talk to him. But after a couple of people headed towards the table as if to speak to them and then suddenly changed direction Rodney spotted John glaring at the next one and shaking his head. He welcomed Elizabeth to the table, however, and Rodney was pleased to see a familiar, friendly face.

When they were all finished Elizabeth and John took Rodney out of the commissary. They found Zelenka in his lab. Rodney stared around him in delight. There was a steady hum of activity in the room, with half a dozen scientists in white coats moving around various workstations and benches, and walls glowed with patterns of flashing lights. The hum of electrical equipment was all around them. "What's it all for?" asked Rodney in awe.

"Just think, Rodney," answered John cheerfully, "In a few years' time it'll be you telling us what it's all for."

Rodney opened his eyes wide. Could it be true? But soon Zelenka joined them, muttering something in Czech under his breath and gathering a bag of things together. He gave Rodney a tablet pc to hold, and Rodney carried it proudly along the corridor, trying to figure out how to use it as they went.

Elizabeth excused herself as they went past the infirmary and went in to talk to Carson, while the others headed back to the lab and the equipment that had caused all the trouble the previous day.

McKay's arms were aching by the time he reached the school. He stopped for a moment on the steps, resting the box on the edge of the step in front of him. As he did so, he felt a shove in the back and turned to see a gang of four boys standing there.

"What you got, McKay?" demanded the biggest one.

"It's my science project," McKay answered shortly. He had no intention of getting involved in any long conversation with these boys.

"Oh yeah? What you made?" The boy tried to peer in the box. "Is that part of a vacuum cleaner?"

"Oh, Rodney's going to clean the school for us," jeered another of the boys.

McKay ignored him, picking up the box again and walking into the building.

The boys pushed forward and crowded round him, slowing his progress. "Let's look then," demanded the one who'd been doing all the talking.

McKay racked his brains and dragged the name Lucas Goldsmith out of his memory. "Get lost, Lucas," he said roughly. Lucas pushed him with one hand, grabbing at the box with the other. McKay lowered the box to the floor, grabbed at Lucas and threw him neatly over his shoulder. He stood dusting off his hands and feeling grateful for the fighting lessons he had had with Colonel Sheppard recently.

"McKay! Goldsmith! What the hell do you think you're doing?" a voice roared down the corridor.

"Sir, it was him! He started it!" Lucas jumped to his feet and pointed indignantly at McKay.

"Both of you, in my office, NOW!"

McKay finally recognised the voice. It was Mr Burns, his dreaded science teacher. He picked up his box and walked in the direction the teacher indicated.

"Leave that here!"

McKay shook his head. "No way am I leaving that for those punks to destroy!"

"You're only making things worse!" Mr Burns threatened. McKay shrugged and carried on walking. Lucas almost danced along beside them, telling Mr Burns how nasty Rodney had been picking on him. McKay gritted his teeth and ignored him. He wasn't going to let anything get in the way of his entry in the science fair. He just had to win, to complete events that had already happened. He wasn't sure how long he had, but he knew that if anything went wrong, he never would get back to Atlantis.


	11. Chapter 11

When they reached the lab on the north pier Rodney helped Zelenka set up his equipment. The work Zelenka had carried out the day before had offered no easy solution to the problem, so the main aim was to figure out exactly what McKay had done to set the machine in motion. Everyone was assuming it had caused McKay's consciousness to switch places with that of his twelve year old self. It was the only logical explanation, and offered some small hope that the process could somehow be reversed.

Soon both Rodney and Zelenka were deeply absorbed. Zelenka was analysing readings from the machinery and trying to figure out what they meant, while Rodney was busy playing with the data tablet and trying to understand how the two very different technologies were able to interface with each other. Rodney was pleased to find that he understood what Zelenka was trying to explain to him. Well, to be totally honest, he didn't truly understand, but at least he began to get the germ of an idea of what he was talking about.

They were trying to change different controls, and see what the effect on various readings was. Rodney was interested to realise that each control entered a low note, just like a musical instrument. By experimenting he was able to play short tunes by pressing different buttons in sequence. By the end of the morning he was starting to feel more confident in what they were doing. He was almost sorry when it was time to stop for lunch.

McKay and Lucas stood in front of Mr Burns's desk, the former looking impatient while the latter simply smirked. McKay wished he'd had the chance to wipe the smile off his face more permanently.

"Fighting in the corridor? I'm disgusted with the pair of you," Mr Burns declared. "What have you got to say for yourselves?"

"This thug was trying to get my project," McKay declared. "He's always picking on me, and I decided it was time I fought back."

"He started it!" Lucas defended himself. "I was just trying to show an interest, and he just turned round and grabbed me, I didn't do anything, honest!"

McKay snorted in disbelief. "Yeah, and your father's the president," he answered sarcastically.

"Shut up," Mr Burns snapped at him. "You ought to know better. I'm calling both your fathers. McKay, you'll spend the rest of the day working on your own in my office."

"But – the science fair!"

"No buts. You've lost your chance. I warned you, I would not tolerate any further bad behaviour from you."

"My project…"

"Your project is a waste of time. I keep telling you, McKay, you're no scientist. Now go get your science books."

McKay could not believe what he was hearing. This was not supposed to happen! "But you can't! You don't understand! I built an atomic bomb!"

Mr Burns's face went white. He stood up abruptly, causing his chair to topple over. "You did WHAT?"

"You know that's what I was interested in, and I thought it was a much better project than the one you and my father wanted me to do, so I went ahead and did it."

"You stupid boy! Have you any idea how dangerous that is?" Mr Burns was almost whispering, as he stared in alarm at the box that he'd so casually dumped onto his desk.

McKay laughed. "Oh, don't worry, it's not a working model."

Mr Burns was staring with terrified fascination at the box. He seemed not to hear McKay's words. "We must evacuate the school!" he declared.

"No, no, no, no, no," McKay interjected. "It's not real. It's not a working model. It's made with silly putty and duct tape. It's only an illustration of how to make an atomic bomb."

"What? Oh. Of course it isn't a working model, you silly boy. You're not capable of making a working model of an atomic bomb." Mr Burns hastily backtracked. "Still, we mustn't have you even playing at making bombs."

"But you thought it was real," McKay reminded him. "So you know I'm capable of the science involved."

"I – Ah – No." Mr Burns appeared to be studying his fingers very closely. "You're in serious trouble, boy. Go to the Principal's office and wait there until your parents arrive."

McKay tried to argue some more, but his teacher was not to be moved. There was nothing for it but to do as he was told. He tried to take his project with him, but Mr Burns would not allow him.

The group ate their lunch sitting in a corner of the lab, with Rodney staring out of the window and admiring the view. He was vaguely aware that John and Dr Zelenka were discussing the situation, but it seemed rather uninteresting to him compared with what had been happening. He was still convinced he was dreaming. Then he realised that they were discussing their Dr McKay, and he tuned back in to the conversation.

"So what is he up to then, do you reckon?" John was asking.

"There is no way of knowing," Zelenka replied. "We can only assume that he is fulfilling the events that have already happened in his own past. We already know that the timeline has not been changed yet, because McKay told you about the time he visited here, so as long as he does nothing to change his own timeline in the past, we know that young Rodney must return to study science and fulfil his own future. We can only hope that our Rodney then returns here."

"But how did the switch happen? How does he switch back?" John wanted answers.

"I am still not sure. It may be that there is a set time limit to the switch. Or it may be that we need to work out how to operate it so that we can manually reverse the change. I really haven't been able to determine which is the case yet."

"It's on a time delay," Rodney interrupted.

"What? How can you possibly know that?" demanded Zelenka.

"That control. That one in the top right corner. It's been changing, gradually, all the time."

Zelenka hurried over to the desk. He bent and studied the controls carefully. "It's possible it's changed very slightly," he admitted eventually, "but how could you possibly notice that?"

"It's easy." Rodney grinned up at him. "You know that the buttons play musical notes? The note related to that control has changed during the morning. The pitch is different. Before, it was a tone above this other control, now it's more like a semitone. If it changes much more it will be the same note."

"Fascinating." Zelenka held his ear closer and listened carefully, then consulted the notes he had made. It's very difficult to see a difference, but I do believe you may be right," he admitted.

"Of course I'm right," Rodney retorted. "I'm always right. But no-one ever believes me."

Zelenka looked over at John and shrugged. John shrugged back. "So we just have to sit and wait?" he asked.

McKay sat in front of the Principal's desk. His parents sat one on each side of him. The Principal, Mr Turner, sat behind his desk with Mr Burns slightly to one side. He was telling his parents just how much trouble McKay had caused the school.

"We just cannot have children bringing bombs into the school," he said.

"It's a non-working illustration of an atomic bomb," McKay explained loudly and slowly, as if talking to someone stupid.

"Be quiet, Rodney, don't make things worse," said his father.

"You're a one to talk!" cried his mother shrilly. "If you'd taken more notice of him perhaps he wouldn't be so out of control!"

"Me? If you didn't spoil the brat, he'd have learnt discipline long ago!"

"Me spoil him? Who bought him that computer? There's a lot we could have done with that money, but you had to waste it on him!"

McKay tuned out and sat contemplating the box on the desk. His whole future lay in the balance here. What had he done wrong? He had thought that if he followed the most obvious course then time would complete its circle and his present and future would be secure. But it wasn't working, was it? He had completed his science project, but had not even had the chance to enter it into the science fair. Now it looked as though far from making life easier for himself he had dropped himself into a whole load more trouble.

Eventually his parents and Mr Turner had run out of steam. His parents were instructed to take him home. He had been suspended from school for a week. He was then to return for the end of the semester, but to work in isolation. McKay thought in despair of what that would mean to him as a child – being able to lose himself inside a crowd was all that had kept him safe so far. Being singled out like this would prove nothing short of disastrous.

He felt numb. He knew he had to figure this out somehow, but right now he was suffering from lack of sleep – this body seemed to cope so much worse than his own – and lack of food. He could see no way out. He silently followed his parents out of the room, casting a look backwards over his shoulder at the box containing his project as he did so. He hadn't even been allowed to take it home with him.

As he went through the secretary's office, he passed Lucas and Lucas's father going into the Principal's office. Lucas gave him a triumphant grin, and dug him in the ribs as he passed. "Boy, are you in trouble!" he crowed. "My Dad's furious with you."

McKay looked up at Lucas's father, and felt his stomach lurch. He looked vaguely familiar, and McKay struggled to remember where he had seen him before – or where he would see him again. Could it be? Maybe everything wasn't lost.

He followed his parents out of school, deep in thought.


	12. Chapter 12

McKay climbed silently into the back of the car. His parents were still arguing as they shut their doors and his father started the engine. McKay stared out of the window, his mind working fast. He thought back to the time just after the science project. He could not actually remember the science fair itself. He could now work out why. But what had happened in the science fair? Had his project actually been entered? That had been what he'd assumed for the past quarter century or so. But now he was not so sure.

He was startled to find out they were already at home. As he climbed out of the car, not bothering to pick up his schoolbag, his father ordered him to his bedroom. McKay shrugged. It wasn't as though he had anywhere else to go.

When he reached his room, he could still hear his parents' angry voices downstairs. He found himself falling back into old habits, as he headed for the bookshelf, spent a few minutes choosing a book, then lay on the bed and fell deep into the world the book offered him.

* * *

Zelenka consulted his computer, then turned back to the others. "I've taken some more readings, and sampled the frequency of the tone given by the control," he announced. "It's very slight, but there has been a definite change in tone over the past hour or so. It appears Rodney is right." He shrugged, while Rodney looked smug. "It appears all we have to do is wait. I suppose it makes sense. This transference is self-limiting. Eventually the situation should reverse itself and return to normal without our interference. I believe it should happen within the next couple of hours, if the change in pitch does indicate the return to stability." 

"Well that's a relief," said John. Then he caught sight of Rodney's face and grinned. "Not that we don't like having you around, Rodney, but it's kind of weird, and we really need our chief scientist back here."

Rodney nodded. "It's been kind of fun," he admitted. "After all, not many kids get to see their future. Of course, time travel is theoretically possible…"

John held up his hand as Rodney launched into a scientific explanation of the theory of time travel. "What say we have some fun while you're still here?" he offered.

Rodney looked at him suspiciously. "What do you have in mind?"

John smiled sweetly. "Fancy a game of chess?"

* * *

McKay, deep into his book, began to feel sleepy. The late night the night before was starting to catch up on him, and the words in the science book he was reading began to have its usual calming effect on him. Before he realised it, the book slipped off the bed and he lay sleeping peacefully, one arm hanging off the side of the bed.

* * *

John grinned and tapped his fingers on the desk confidently. It was cheating slightly, to play Rodney at chess while he was still only twelve years old, but hey, when would he have this sort of opportunity again? He'd been desperate to try his hand against McKay for ages, since he'd first overheard him complaining about not getting challenging partners to play against. But never having seen him at a chessboard, he couldn't help sneaking in this chance to find out just how good he was. 

"Your turn," he prompted.

Rodney stared down at the board. John's grin widened. He nearly had him. Okay, he was beating a twelve year old Rodney, but it was a start. Now he had an idea of his strengths and weaknesses, he might even try challenging McKay as an adult. As long as he came back okay…

Even as he had this thought, he looked up to see Rodney's eyes drifting shut. "Hey, what's up?" he asked in alarm, as Rodney slowly slipped sideways off the chair.

* * *

"Rodney! You get down these stairs right now!" 

Rodney jumped up in alarm. He found himself half on the bed, half on the floor, with an open book next to him. He didn't remember a book; he had a vague feeling that he'd been doing something to do with chess. But he couldn't remember clearly. What a strange dream!

"Rodney!" His father threw the bedroom door open. "Get down those stairs now. There's someone to talk to you."

Rodney shook his head, feeling dizzy. What was going on? The last thing he could remember clearly was his music lesson. But somehow the pain of the memory didn't feel as strong as he'd expected. It felt as though it had happened a long time ago. He looked down at the book. Brighter than a Thousand Suns: a Personal History of the Atomic Scientists. He'd been reading it between sessions on his science project – which was now missing from the corner of the room. Had his father taken it away as he'd threatened?

"Now, Rodney," his father insisted. He seemed strangely agitated. Rodney turned from the book and walked down the stairs and into the living room. Two men in suits were sitting on the couch. "Hello, Rodney," said the older of them. "We're from the CIA. We just want to talk to you about your school science project."

* * *

McKay felt dizzy. He found himself lying on the floor, with Colonel Sheppard bending over him looking concerned, and hastily pulled himself onto the nearby chair. "I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head as if to clear it. "I just came over all dizzy for a moment." He stared down at the chessboard, trying to figure out what had happened. He had a vague memory of exploring the city, but could not remember anything else. He put his hand up to his head, and found a bandaid on it. 

"You banged your head on some equipment, remember?" said Sheppard, watching him closely.

"Ah, yes," McKay said. He supposed he must have a touch of concussion. He looked at the chessboard. "We were playing chess?"

"Ah…" Sheppard seemed strangely uneasy. "That's okay, we don't have to…"

"No, no, no, that's okay," McKay reassured him. "I'm okay now. I just felt a bit strange. But I'm okay."

He reached out and picked up a knight. Sheppard seemed to relax slightly. McKay frowned, studied the board, then placed his knight decisively back on the board. "Checkmate, I do believe," he said.

Sheppard glared at the chessboard as if it had done him a personal injury.

* * *

_And we're done except for an epilogue, I guess! Hope you've enjoyed the story, and thanks for all the reviews_. 


	13. epilogue

Rodney looked confidently up at the board. This was all ridiculously easy, of course. Even though since his science project had revealed his abilities he was in the top class for science. As he explained the answer, his teacher held up his hand. "Whoa, Rodney, slow down, you're losing the rest of us!" he joked.

Science lessons were fun. Dr Goldsmith, Rodney's new teacher, really knew his stuff, and would listen to Rodney's theories when he hung around after class. He hardly ever saw Mr Burns any more. He'd been really worried on his first day back at school after his marathon session with the CIA men, but to his surprise word had spread about his project and his visit from the men in suits. Instead of the usual hostile stares and jabs in the back, he found that the others left him well alone. He heard a whisper or two about bombs in lockers, and grinned to himself. As long as they didn't bother him, he would leave them alone. But he did find that muttering about the atomic number of plutonium or debating with himself the best way to separate the isotopes caused any threatened trouble to melt away fast, and his life felt much more comfortable as a result.

About a couple of weeks later, Rodney was called back to the principal's office. He felt butterflies in his stomach as he entered, but was soon put at ease by the friendly expression on Mr Turner's face. Next to him sat Dr Goldsmith, who looked very pleased with himself.

"Ah, yes, Rodney McKay," the principal greeted him. "I don't know if you're aware, but Dr Goldsmith, who has kindly been helping us out for the end of the semester, normally teaches older students, at Elmwood School. Are you aware of the school?"

Rodney nodded silently. Of course he knew Elmwood School. A private school well known for its selective intake and comprehensive science program. A school he would give anything in the world to attend.

Dr Goldsmith stood up and walked over to him. "Rodney, would you like to come to my school next semester? We offer a scholarship program, and from what I've seen of your ability you would really benefit from attending our school and studying science more seriously."

Rodney just stared open-mouthed.

Perhaps Dr Goldsmith misunderstood his hesitation. "I know it's a boarding school, Rodney, but you don't have to live in. We do have students who attend only daily."

Rodney shook his head. He finally found words to speak. "I'd love to attend Elmwood," he said quietly. He thought of the constant rows at home. "And I'd be very happy to be a boarder."

* * *

Rodney stared about him in delight. He could hardly believe he was here. It was like his greatest dream had come true. He was surrounded by the most up-to-date scientific equipment, he had the best teachers in the subject that he could possibly have, and for the first time in his life he was studying amongst others who were capable of working to his standards of knowledge. Well, almost to his standards, he grinned to himself. After all, surely none of them was _quite_ up to his ability level. 

Occasionally he thought about the strange dream he'd had. But after finding bruises on his body from the beating he'd had from Lucas and his friends, and a lump on his head, he'd decided that he must have had a concussion, which had led him to go through the day of the science fair without actually remembering any of it. He'd been given a special award for his entry to the science fair, and the greatest irony of all was that it had been Lucas's father, Dr Goldsmith, who had both called the CIA in to investigate him and then managed to get him a place at Elwood School.

Very occasionally he would think about the strange dream he'd had, where he'd been in a strange city and met some nice people; but like any dream, it was fading fast. As was any idea he'd once had of being a concert pianist. After all, he'd now found his future. He was going to be the world's greatest astrophysicist.


End file.
